


History II

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-02
Updated: 2008-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Leo/Margaret.  "I don't care what you think right now. Right now, your thinking is screwed. So I've decided to think for both of us. I know you can do this, and there is no way that I'm letting you fall."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

California

He scanned the ballroom, making mental notes of the location of key supporters. Reaching for a bottle of water from a passing waiter, he twisted the cap off as he moved toward the table in front of him. As he took a quick sip, he caught a glimmer of yellow moving beside him.

“I see you finally got back.”

He frowned as he turned his head, meeting her eyes. “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”

“It’s been over an hour, Leo. Fortunately that nice young Sam Seaborn was kind enough to ask me to dance.” 

He felt his jaw tighten at the accusation in her voice as he mentally willed himself not to snap at her. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to smile. “That’s a beautiful dress.”

She lifted a glass flute to her lips, glaring at him as she tasted the sparkling liquid. “It ought to be. You paid a small fortune for it.”

“Look, Jenny, can we at least be civil tonight? I’d like to at least enjoy the evening, considering we’ve not seen each another for a few weeks.” 

She laughed, a short staccato without humor. “And who’s fault is that? You’ve been gone for months, Leo. I guess I was lucky you came to Connecticut for the funeral.” Taking another sip of champagne, she added, “And it seems like every time I join you, you leave me alone.”

“Can we not do this now?” He hissed, smiling politely as he noticed the couple moving toward them.

Following his gaze, she turned as she recognized the other couple.

Jed’s voice rang out as he steered Abbey toward them. “Tell me, do my eyes deceive me, or is that the beautiful Jennifer McGarry?”

Leo watched as his wife’s facial expression quickly shifted as she greeted their friends. Listening to the conversation between Jed and Jenny, he caught the narrowing of Abbey’s eyes as she stood to the side, then grinned quickly as she winked at him. 

Hearing the band strike up a dance tune, Abbey looked at Jed. “Jethro, why don’t you take Jenny for a spin on the dance floor? Leo and I can sit this one out.” Watching as they made their way into the dancing crowd, Abbey placed her hand on Leo’s tuxedo-clad arm. “Why don’t you and I take a trip out to the veranda, hmmm?”

He met her eyes and sighed inwardly, knowing that she had more on her mind than getting some fresh air. Making several stops along the way to greet donors and supports, he found himself actually feeling glad when they reached the French doors and stepped out onto the vacant patio.

She watched as he closed the doors behind them, slightly dimming the noise from within. The last traces of the sunset were just on the horizon, and she could see the tightness around his mouth and eyes. Crossing to a chair next to the railing, she asked, “So what’s she griping about tonight?”

He turned from the doors, looking over his shoulder at her. “Excuse me?”

Turning slightly in her chair, she patted the seat next to her. “Sit, Leo.” Watching his profile as he settled in, she smiled slightly. “What’s Jenny griping about now?”

Facing the setting sun, he exhaled softly as he stretched his right leg. “Abbey, do we really have to talk about this?” Hearing the faint strands of music, he knew he should be in there working the room.

“How long is she gracing with her presence this time?”

He turned his head and met her eyes for just a moment. “How long does she ever stay?”

Abbey gave a quick laugh. “So, she’s on a plane bright and early tomorrow morning…again?”

“Yeah.”

“What is this, the second or third time she’s been on the campaign?”

Slowly shifting in his seat, he turned his body to face her. “Abigail Bartlet, unless I knew better, I would think that you’re deliberately trying to get something started.” 

She held up a well-manicured hand. “Don’t get me wrong, hon, I’m not the one who drives wedges. You and Jed have that market cornered already. I’m just asking my long time friend some questions about his wife, whom I’ve not seen a lot of over the past few months.”

Smirking slightly, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, tell me another one. What’s on your mind, Abbey?”

“I told you, Leo, just friendly interest.”

“Abbey…”

She stood up quickly, eyes flashing as she placed her hand on her hip. “Oh, for God’s sake, Leo, every time the woman joins us, she acts like a spoiled child and treats you like dirt. Don’t give me that look, I know she’s your wife, and for some unfathomable reason, my husband seems to adore her. But she’s about to drive me over the edge.”

He watched her pace near the balcony, knowing he should say something in Jenny’s defense. Shrugging his shoulders, he met her eyes. “Look, Abbey, she’s put up with a lot over the years. I realize that.” 

His eyes widened at her very unladylike snort. “Hell, Leo, I’m sick and tired of her poor, pitiful me routine.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

She placed her hand on the edge of the railing, looking out over the ocean. “She’s playing you, hon.” Turning, she saw the confusion in his eyes. “I’m not trying to cause a problem, but you need to know it. Jenny’s been doing this for years, and she’ll keep doing it if you let her.”

He sat for a moment, watching the horizon as her words sunk in. Watching him stare vacantly out at the ocean, she wondered if she had gone too far. “Leo..”

Standing up, he took the step needed to reach the railing, then turned to face her. “Abbey, we’re in the middle of the fight for our political lives. Why are you telling me this tonight, of all nights?”

She looked at him, compassion in her eyes. “’Cause I’m tired of seeing the look of guilt on your face all the time.” She took a deep breath, knowing that she was about to find out if her suspicions were true “And I’m tired of seeing Margaret have to deal with the aftermath of Hurricane Jenny.” Watching the emotions flicker across his face, she knew her words had hit their mark. 

He felt his hand clench at his side as he ground out, “Abbey, don’t bring Margaret into this.

She waved her hand. “Leo, I’m not blind, and the last time I checked, both of us were of above average intelligence.” 

She lowered her voice, leaning in. “You never told Jenny about Margaret, did you?” Seeing his head quickly shake, she continued. “Thank God. You know that I love you like a brother, right? So take this advice from your sister. You’re gonna have to make some serious decisions about the state of your marriage. Now, I’m not advocating political or matrimonial suicide, but do you want to go on like this forever?”

He turned stiffly from her, sliding his hands into his pockets as he leaned back against the balcony. “Don’t ask me those questions, Abbey. Not tonight.”

Reaching out, she placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, sighing heavily. “For your sake, and for Margaret’s sake, you’re gonna have to answer them soon.” She turned, heading toward the French doors. “I’m going back in. Are you coming?”

He quickly met her glance as he shook his head. “I think I’ll take a few more minutes out here.”

Smiling softly, she reached for the door knob. “Don't take too long, Leo. This is too important.\"


	2. History II

Democratic National Convention, 1998

Standing at the window, he stared out across the city, the sky streaked with blues and grays against the pink in the distance. He could almost feel the excitement coming through the floors from the convention below, and he couldn’t have stopped the smile that spread across his face, even if he had wanted to. 

Turning quickly as he heard the lock click, he watched as she crept into the suite, her red hair bright from the hallway glow. Closing the door silently, she cast them back into the shadows, the only light coming from the far setting sun.

“Margaret?” His voice was low but carried across the silent room.

She looked up, one hand on the top button of her suit jacket. Seeing his outline against the glass, she let out a sharp breath. “Leo, you just about gave me a heart attack!”

Chuckling lightly, he gazed across the room as she slipped off her heels, hearing them slide against the deep carpet. “Whatcha doing up here? I thought you’d be on the floor already.”

“I was on the floor.” She slid her jacket off, carefully laying it over the back of the nearest chair. “Unfortunately, I spilled my Diet Coke on my blouse, and I’d rather not spend the evening looking like a two year old who still needs a bib.” Pausing for a moment, she asked, “What are you doing standing in the dark? Shouldn’t you be with the Governor?”

“He’s talking to John Hoynes right now.” He watched as she cocked her head to the side, still smiling as she met his eyes.

“Is he going to take it?” Her long legs carried her across the room to the closet, the creak of the door harsh in the room.

“Don’t know. Hope so.”

“When will we know?”

“I guess when the Governor calls me.”

He heard the slide of a zipper, then a muffled curse. “Margaret, what are you doing in my closet?”

She turned, pulling a beige blouse with her. “I put my bags in your closet this morning, like I always do on the day we’re going to leave.”

Leaning back against the window, the glass cool even through his suit jacket, he allowed himself to just watch as she stared at the garment in her hands, a confused look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, then back at the blouse, catching her bottom lip against her teeth. “Small problem. This blouse buttons up the back.”

“So wear another one.”

“Leo, I don’t have another one that matches this suit.” 

Biting back a laugh, he allowed himself a small grin, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate the humor of this situation like he did. “So change your suit.”

“Leo…” She grimaced; even she could hear the whine in her voice. “If I changed my suit, I’d have to change stockings, shoes, jewelry, everything. Everything’s packed up, and I don’t have that kind of time.”

“Well, if you’d listened to me and kept your room…” 

She held up the hand with the blouse in it, a pale stop sign. “Don’t even go there, buster. You know good and well that there is no reason to pay for that room on the day we leave, since we always leave after the last meeting at night. I spend all of my time in your suite anyway.”

This time, he chuckled, deciding that facing her wrath would be worth it. “Margaret, I wouldn’t let the others hear you say that if I were you.”

She caught the turn of his smile, his teeth gleaming in the shadows. Feeling the warmth creeping up her cheeks, she shook her head, groaning. “Could we please just drop this subject? You know what I meant.” 

They both turned at the sound of the ringing phone, sharp in the quiet room. Pushing off the window sill, he crossed to the table, silencing the invasion with one button. “McGarry.” 

She slipped into the bathroom, blinking at the brightness of the fluorescent lights as she closed the door. Her thoughts elsewhere as she pulled the stained blouse out of her skirt, she unbuttoned it, quickly sliding it off of her shoulders. Letting it drop to the counter, she dabbed cold water on the stain, then blotted it with a washcloth. 

Mentally kicking herself for letting CJ convince her to buy something so unpractical, she slipped the new blouse on. Twisting as she managed to reach the lower two pearl buttons, she wondered if she would end up looking like a human pretzel. Sighing, she met her reflection in the mirror, and whispered, “I guess I’ve got no other choice.” Tucking the bottom of the blouse into her skirt, she reached for the knob.

He heard the door open just as he was closing the phone. “Hoynes is our man. We’ve got about ten minutes before we need to be on the convention floor.”

“Leo..” 

He turned, hearing the question in her voice. “Yeah?” 

“I can’t get it buttoned.”

Moving toward the lit doorway, he ate up the room in seconds. “Turn around, Margaret.”

“Are you sure?”

Meeting her eyes, he smiled quickly as he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her. It took him just a split second to remember that they were almost the same height, and he pulled a deep breath as he reached for the lowest open button. His fingers fumbled against the silk as he slid the pearl into the opening, and he thought he felt her stiffen as he touched her skin, reaching for the next button. 

“Hell, woman. Whatever possessed you to buy such a thing?”

She barely heard his mumbled curse, then smiled slightly as she answered. “CJ.” She could feel his caress rising up her back, and she reached up one hand, pulling her hair to the side.

Watching as the red locks fanned against the silk, her neck exposed, he whispered, “Remind me to thank CJ for this later.”

“Huh?”

Quickly shaking his head, he muttered, “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

As he closed the top button, she felt his hands linger on her shoulders, sliding her hair back into place. She closed her eyes, remembering another night in a darkened room, then mentally shook herself back into the present.

“Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to go.”

“Yeah.” He dropped his hands down her arms, tracing the silk to her wrists. Pulling her right hand, he softly turned her around. “Before we go, I want to give you something.”

Dazed, she let him lead her across the room as he opened a drawer. She watched him pull out a thin, flat box, then felt her eyes widen as she recognized the logo.

Pulling back, she raised both hands in protest. “Oh no you don’t, Leo McGarry. Tell me you did not do what I think you did.”

He looked up, a smirk on his face. “Too late, Margaret. I already did it.” He opened the box, flashes of jewels sparkling in the dim light. “I was going to give this to you later, but I want you to have it now.”

“It’s too much.” She watched as he took the watch out of the velvet case, the diamonds flowing against his fingers.. “Leo…”

“Margaret, look at me.” Heeding his soft request, she tilted her head, meeting his gaze. 

His low voice rumbled against her ear. “Mary Margaret, I don’t have all the answers. Hell, half the time I don’t even think I know the questions. But what I do know is that I couldn’t have done this, we couldn’t have gotten this far, without you. I could never tell say how much I.. how much I need you.” He paused, reaching for her left hand, feeling her fingers tremble as he finally clicked the clasp into place. “And you did tell me that you lost your watch last week.”

She felt the weight warming against her wrist, held in place by his grasp. Finding her voice, she whispered, “Leo, I lost a simple everyday costume watch. This is a Harry Winston.” 

He grinned, thinking that he liked being at eye level with her, being able to see her thoughts reflected in her eyes. “I know, Margaret. I bought it.” He leaned in, brushing the tear that dropped from her eyelash. “Margaret, this is one of the happiest days of my life. My best friend is about to accept the nomination for president. I want you to share this moment with me. It’s that simple, okay?”

The ringing of the phone interrupted them once again, and he slowly loosened his fingers from hers. Blinking away the next tear that threatened to fall, she took a deep breath, her mind finally registering the look of happiness on his face. Shaking her head lightly, she gave him a weak smile. “You know we’re gonna discuss this later, right?”

Reaching for the phone, he shot her a full blown smirk. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

She turned, pulling her jacket off of the chair as she slid her feet back into her favorite pumps. Hearing him tell Josh that they were on their way down, she slid the watch under the cuff of her blouse, not ready to answer questions about it tonight. Feeling his hand in the curve of her back as they walked to the door, she smiled as he opened the door and they stepped into the light.


	3. History II

Mid-Morning, St. Louis, Debate, 9 days before the Election

“Ninety seconds, Governor. That’s all you get. Ninety seconds.”

Seated across the coffee table, Jed frowned, peering over the top of his glasses. “I’m well aware of the time constraints imposed on this debate, Toby. I believe I was the one who agreed to them.” 

Toby took a deep breath, then slowly let it out, tapping his pen against the papers in front of him.. “Well, then, sir, you understand the need for narrowing your answers to fit the confines.” Pointing his pen at the man beside him, he added, “And Sam here thinks you still need to tighten up the answer on Social Security.”

Popping his head up, Sam nodded. “We’re at 101 seconds right now, but I think we can get it down to 85. You’ll just have to talk fast.”

“That’s what he’s been doing for the past ten months.” Everyone turned at the new voice in the room.

Jed stood, smiling at his wife as she entered the room with Josh. “That’s right, sweetknees. I’ve talked my way from New Hampshire to South Dakota to California, then back again.” Turning around, he tossed over his shoulder, “Let’s take a break, fellas. We’ve been at this for four hours already, and I‘m getting a pretty serious headache.”

“But Governor…”

Abbey laughed at the expression on her husband’s face, knowing he was moments from exploding at his senior campaign advisor. Hoping to delay any fireworks, she quickly changed the subject. “Does anybody know when Margaret will be back?”

Sam looked up from his conversation with CJ. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Who?”

“Mary Margaret Hooper, Sam.” Jed moved across the room, linking his hand with his wife’s. “You know, tall redhead, runs Leo’s life, eats young campaign advisors for breakfast.”

“Oh. Her.” He looked at CJ, shrugging. 

 

Rolling her eyes at his look of confusion, CJ answered, “I believe she’s going to meet us on the next stop, ma’am. The funeral is this afternoon.”

“Thanks, CJ.” Pulling her husband toward the door, Abbey called back into the room, “We’re going to find some lunch and Tylenol before I let Toby have another go at him.”

Sitting back in his chair, Sam cocked his head. “Does anybody else think that’s odd?”

“What’s odd now, Sparky?”

“All I’m saying is that, sometimes, I don’t think the man could pick me, or any of us for that matter, out of a police lineup if his life depended on it, but he knows Leo’s assistant’s full name.”

“Honestly, Sam, are you as dumb as you sound sometimes?” CJ glared at him over the top of her glasses. “Of course the Governor knows her name. She’s been with Leo almost as long as he’s been friends with the Bartlets.”

Josh grinned, taking an apple from the table and polishing it on his shirt before crunching into it as he flopped into the side chair. “Yeah, my dad always said that she held Leo together just by sheer will and threats. As long as she was around, then he could conquer the world.” Laughing, he added, “But then, my dad often exaggerated.”

*********************

Early Evening, Debate Day, 9 days before Election

She answered the phone on the second ring, half-expecting Leo to call because he forgot where she had left his notes. “You rang?”

“Margaret?”

Surprised, she said, “Josh?” quickly swerving to miss a car that pulled into her lane unexpectedly.

“Yeah. Look, I think we‘ve got a problem. Where are you?”

“My aunt’s funeral just ended, and I was going to check into the hotel, get a good night’s rest for once and meet you all in Miami tomorrow.”

“Change of plans. We need you to come to St. Louis.”

Her mind registering the controlled panic in his voice, she asked, “What’s the problem, Josh?”

He hesitated for a second. “Margaret, I can’t give you the details on a cell phone, okay? Just go to the airport. I’ll get a private plane for you.”

She switched the phone to her left hand so she could steer with her right. “‘You gotta give me something, Josh. You can’t just call a girl up and just tell her there’s a problem without details, you know.”

She waited for a few seconds, wondering if the connection had been lost. Finally, she heard his voice. 

“All I know is that Mrs. Bartlett said to tell you it might be happening again and please come as soon as you can.”

Confused for just a moment, she felt her stomach tighten when she comprehended the meaning. “Josh, are you telling me that he…”

He interrupted, stopping her words. “Don’t say it, Margaret. We don’t have a secure connection, and I don‘t want this ending up in the next RNC commercial.”

Her words came fast as she floored the gas pedal, weaving in and out of lanes. “Is he…”

“He’s acting normal, but..” She heard the hesitation again. 

“Josh?”

“Margaret, I can’t explain it, but Mrs. Bartlet thinks you need to come back.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have left. I knew there was too much to do today. I knew he was acting funny this morning.” She could hear herself babbling, but was trying to navigate the interstate junctions to turn back toward the airport.

“Look, Margaret, just get here, okay? I’ll get Donna to meet you at the St. Louis airport, and all she’ll know is that your plans changed and you were able to join us earlier than expected.”

“Yeah.” Seeing her exit, she added, “Josh, I’m about an hour from the airport. You better call the pilot, okay? And under no circumstances do you leave him alone.” She disconnected, throwing the phone in the passenger seat, forcing herself to focus on the road and not think about what was going on in St. Louis as she sped toward the airport.

***********************

St. Louis, Night of the Debate, 9 days before Election 1998

Unsnapping her cosmetic bag on the counter, she quickly removed an orange plastic bottle, clicking the safety cap off. Carefully dumping the contents into the toilet, she flushed , watching the pills flow away with the water as she dropped the bottle into the trash can. She stared into the mirror for what seemed like forever, hands leaned against the vanity, the marble cold against her palms. Remembering the phone conversation from the plane with Abbey, she thought, “It’s been over five years, and yet I feel like it was just yesterday.”

Shaking herself out of her contemplation, she picked up the trash can, carrying it with her as she moved back into the suite. Turning on lamps as she crossed the room, she opened the armoire, mentally calculating how much was missing, then methodically removed every remaining bottle, dropping them into the waiting can. Each click of glass as it hit seemed to pound in the room, a form of percussion all its own. For once, her sense of frugality failed her, and she smiled tightly as she thought about the expense of what she was doing. Quickly checking the refrigerator, she tossed a few items, then opened the ice bucket, ignoring it when she saw only water. Satisfied that the job was done, she reached for the trash bag as she closed the paneled doors. 

She slipped into the hallway, carrying the clinking bag with her. Seeing a maid’s cart standing in an open doorway, she peered in, relieved to find a supply room. Dropping her burden down the trash chute, she walked casually back to the room, fishing in her pocket for the key as she heard the phone ringing on the other side of the door.

Finally getting the door to open, she sped to the phone, grabbing the receiver. “Hello?”

“Margaret?”

Letting out a labored breath, she sat on the side of the bed, flipping on the lamp. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, drop the ma’am, Margaret. After everything, I think you can call me Abbey.”

“Okay.” She could hear the fatigue in the other woman’s voice that she hadn’t hear in their earlier conversations, along with a hint of something she couldn’t quite identify.

“Hon, they’re on their way up.”

Margaret closed her eyes for just a second, feeling the room closing in on her. “Who’s with him?”

“Josh. So far, only the three of us suspect anything, and as far as anybody is concerned, you and I are completely clueless.” 

“That won’t be hard to fake.” She could hear a warm laughter on the other end, and smiled to herself, a mild relief from the impending storm.

“I hate to get serious for a minute, but…”

Margaret interrupted quickly, “It’s done. I emptied my pain pills first thing, like we discussed earlier, and I’ve trashed everything that could cause any problems.”

“I’ll write you another prescription if you need them for your back.”

“I appreciate that, but hopefully I won’t.” 

“I don’t know if he’s taken anything, Margaret, but I’m pretty sure he’s had a drink, or ten.”

She grimaced, tightening her hand on the receiver. “Abbey, I may as well tell you, there’s quite a bit of liquor missing from the cabinet. I don’t know how much, but…” She let the sentence hang in the air.

There was a slight hesitation. “We had another problem while you were gone this afternoon.”

Biting her lower lip, she ran her free hand against the comforter, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. “What else happened?”

“Jed’s got an inner ear infection and is a little under the weather. He made it through the debate, but I don’t think I can leave him right now. Josh says most of the campaign staff need to move on to Miami, but I’m keeping the four of us here. ” Abbey sighed deeply. “Margaret, what I’m saying is that you’re on your own tonight.”

“Oh, Abbey…” 

“Hon, I think both our men have found that the stress of this endeavor is greater than they counted in the beginning. I’m afraid it’s taken its toll on each of them, just in different ways.” 

Her head turned suddenly as she heard voices outside the door, her questions about her friend‘s cryptic comment forgotten. “Abbey, I think I have company.”

“Margaret, if anybody can do this, it’s you.” Her voice was sharp but kind “Don’t let him forget all of the battles that we’ve already fought and won together, do you hear me?”

Letting out the breath she had been holding, she quickly answered, “Thanks. I needed that.” Laying the receiver down, she moved toward the couch just as the door opened. Eyes narrowed, she watched as Leo crossed the threshold, relieved to see him steady and calm.

Josh quietly closed the door behind them, staying next to the wall as Leo slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, meeting her eyes as he leaned his palms against the chair. Josh watched as they just silently stared at one another, Margaret’s hands hanging loosely at her side, neither one of them even acknowledging his presence. Finally, Leo sighed, loud in the silent room, and turned toward the younger man, his face neutral. “Thanks, Josh, but I think we’ve got it from here.” His voice was low but even as he turned back to face Margaret. “Don’t we, Margaret?”

She met his eyes again, seeing the shadows creeping in even as she slowly nodded. Hearing the click as Josh slipped out, she smiled wanly as Leo walked to the couch, his body almost falling into the leather. 

She watched as he leaned forward, face in his hands. He was the first to speak, “You came back.”

Letting him gather his bearings, she quietly answered, “Yeah. Seems like my presence was missed.” Crossing the room, she pulled out the coffee carafe, pouring the steaming liquid into a white ceramic mug, glad that she had remembered to brew it when she first came in.

“Who called you?”

Hearing the uncertainty in his voice, she kept her tone neutral as she moved toward him. “Josh and Abbey.”

He groaned, a ragged pull from his throat. “Margaret, I screwed up.”

Placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front on them as she kicked off her shoes, she sat beside him, a good foot’s distance between them, curling her legs up under her as she turned to face him. She could feel his words grind in the pit of her soul, but knew that now was not the time for the sympathy she so wanted to share, at least not yet, so she continued in the same neutral voice. “Tell me what happened.”

His head still bent, fingers biting into the soft leather, the words trembled out of him. “During the meeting this afternoon, there was quite a bit of Scotch floating around.” He finally looked up at her, anguish clouding his eyes and voice. “I held out for what seemed like hours, Margaret, I really did.” 

She saw the pain flashing in his gaze, but she couldn’t let him stop now. “Keep going.” She settled deeper in the couch, placing her palms against her red wool slacks. 

His breath shuddered out of his throat, but he kept looking at her. “I said no, Margaret. I said no more than once. But I could remember how the glass felt, I really could. And when the ice dropped… O God, when the ice dropped. I think it was that sound alone that did it.” He leaned back heavily, his body molding into the soft brown leather, the couch shifting underneath her. “It was a thirty year old Scotch.”

She closed her eyes for just a second, her stomach churning. She saw him stretch out his right leg, flexing the knee, his fists clenching at his side, and she sighed. “How much?”

“Does it really matter?” Defeat in his voice, he rolled his head against the back of the couch. “A drink’s a drink to an alcoholic. One or a hundred is one too many.” He struggled with the next sentence, knowing he needed to say it again. “Margaret, I screwed up.”

“Yeah, ya did.” Her voice low and warm, she continued. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” 

He lifted his face, staring straight ahead. She looked at his profile, thinking to herself that his face had aged twenty years since earlier that morning. 

“I wasn’t there when Jed collapsed this afternoon. Good God, Margaret, I practically forced him into this, and I know he can win, but I wasn’t there when he needed me!” Letting out a deep breath, he added in a broken voice, “I’m tired, Margaret. I don’t think I can beat it this time.”

The defeat in his tone almost frightened her…almost. Feeling a panic rising up in her, she mentally counted to ten. The panic was soon replaced with a righteous indignation as a plan formed in her mind. “Leo, look at me.” Her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with steel, drew his attention.

“I don’t care what you think right now. Right now, your thinking is screwed. So I’ve decided to think for both of us. I know you can do this, and there is no way that I’m letting you fall.” Leaning in, she placed her hand on the side of his face, feeling his cheek settle into her palm. “Do you understand me? I refuse to permit it.”

He shifted closer to her, seeing the fire bounce in her eyes. “I can’t abdicate all responsibility, Margaret. That’s not the way it works.” His jaw was tight against her palm.

“I’m not telling you to abandon the throne, Leo. All I’m saying is it’s time to take a temporary leave of absence. Let me help you help him.” She watched emotions flicker across his face, his eyes asking the next question before his lips did.

“Does it matter that I don’t know if I can do it?”

“No.” She started to drop her hand from his cheek, but he grabbed it, gripping her fingers tightly as he pulled her closer, their hands laying against his leg, shoulders touching.

“No?”

“No. Only one of us needs to know, and I do. Together, we can make it happen.”

"I think I said something like that to Jed once." He smirked, his eyelids crinkled. “So what are you going to do, stay with me twenty four hours a day?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, she gave him a small smirk back.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her voice grew in strength, the idea solid in her mind. “If that’s what it takes, at least for the next nine days, then yeah.”

“I can’t ask you to do this, Margaret. That’s not the way this works.” He cocked his head, letting his words just barge on. “I can’t ask you for Manchester again. You’re too important; I can’t let you leave me this time.”

“Leo, I didn’t come back just because the Governor asked me. I didn’t come back just because I believed in the campaign. I came back to you.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed quickly, feeling his thumb slide across the back of her hand.. “I don’t know what we have together, and now’s definitely not the time to discuss it. But I’m not leaving.” Pulling a deep breath, she added, “However, I need you to tell me that this is not going to happen again.”

He looked at their hands linked together, her pale skin bright against his dark grey suit pants, smooth against his palm. “I don‘t want to be the man that I was years ago, Margaret. I don‘t want to be a drunk, a drug addict. I don‘t want to self-destruct again. ” He tightened his grip against her fingers, turning back to her. “I can’t make any promises, I don't want to make empty promises to you. I’ll do it one day at a time.”

“No, *we’ll* do it one day at a time.” Using her free hand, she reached for the coffee mug, taking a long sip. “You’re coherent right now, Leo, but you need to sleep.”

Raising an eyebrow, he watched as she swallowed. “So do you.” 

“I slept yesterday. I’ll sleep tomorrow. I won’t sleep tonight.” Leaning, she sat the mug on the table, then moved her hand to his tie, pulling it from his collar and dropping it on the floor. 

“Margaret…” 

Smiling quickly at the question in that one word, she shook her slightly as she gently pulled them both up from the couch. “Go take a shower, Leo. It’s already almost midnight, and you’re going to bed within the next thirty minutes.”

“You’re issuing orders?”

She smiled at the look on his face. “Yeah. I think you’ll find over the next few days that I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that we win this thing -- and I’m not just talking about the election.” Cocking her head, her red hair falling to the side, she placed her free palm on his chest. “Understand?”

His voice soft against her ear, he answered. “Yes, ma’am.”


	4. History II

Early, early morning, Day 8 before the Election 1998, St. Louis, Missouri  
Her bare feet were silent against the deep carpet as she moved toward the French doors, stopping when her nose almost touched the glass. Part of her wanted to bang her head against the window, but the logical part of her mind told her she would just end up with a bruise and a headache, both of which she would have to explain to Abbey Bartlet come daylight. Rolling her neck from side to side, she felt the pops and cracks as the wayward bones aligned back into place as she stared unseeingly out into the St. Louis night.  
The questions flowed through her mind, a waterfall that seemed like it would never end. How could she not have seen this coming? How were they going to make it through the next eight days? Hell, what were they going to do after Election? She had spent every day with him for almost the past year; if anybody should have known, it should have been her. Shaking her head hard, she took a deep breath, pulling her cardigan tighter against the chill seeping through the window. Nevertheless, one question still begged to be asked. How could she let him go back to his wife, even though she knew that was the only thing she could do if she wanted to protect him?   
The bed springs creaked, and her head turned quickly, her heart beat pounding in her ears. Hoping he was still asleep, she forced herself to breathe normally as she walked back to the chair she had moved by the bed and perched on the overstuffed torture chamber. Seeing the tremble in his right hand, she let out a ragged breath, leaning forward.  
“What time is it?”  
She saw his eyes shine in the pale light of the distant lamp. Keeping her voice soft, she stroked his quivering arm, skin clammy under her fingertips. “It’s three A.M.”  
“How long this time?”  
“You made it almost an hour and a half.”  
His voice rumbled as he rolled toward her, his left hand grabbing hers. “I don‘t feel so good.”   
Moving to sit on the bed, she propped her feet in the chair as she faced his prone body. “You want me to get you some water?”  
He shook his head quickly, gripping her hand tighter as he swallowed hard, his voice tattered in the darkness. “No. Don’t leave me.”  
She smiled, almost sadly. “Honey, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been right beside you all night.”   
“Sing to me?”   
“Close your eyes.” Her voice was a light whisper, but he did as she asked, the bed shifting as she slid closer to him, her legs inching onto the bed, their hips touching. Curling toward her, he felt cold when her hand slid out of his, but warmth seeped back into him when she slid her fingers up and down his back, her stroke gentle through his pajama top.  
“Days may not be fair, always,   
That’s when I’ll be there, always.   
Not for just an hour,   
Not for just a day, Not for just a year, but for always.”   
Her voice washed over him, a rich timbre that seemed to stop the shaking in his hand and in his mind.   
“I’ll be loving you, oh always,   
With a love that’s true always.   
When the things you’ve planned,   
need a helping hand,   
I will understand always.”  
He felt her touch on his face as the lyrics settled into his slowing consciousness. Reaching out, he slid his left hand around her hip, pulling her tight against him, not wanting to lose any contact with her as her voice wrapped around them and held him just like her hands were.   
Feeling his face slacken under her fingertips, she let a small sigh escape her lips as she continued stroking his jaw line, watching him sleep again, hoping against hope for a just a few more hours. Tears tracked down her cheeks onto her sweater, but she didn’t want to stop touching him long enough to dry them, knowing more would just take their place. The weight of his hand burned through her slacks, and she dared not move for fear of waking him. Leaning over him, her back bowed, she whispered, “I’ll be loving you, oh always.”  
9 AM, Flying into Miami, 8 Days before the Election 1998  
From her comfortable chair across the small cabin, she watched as the other woman slept in the corner of the couch, marveling at how the redhead could curl her long legs up like that. She smiled as she remembered the scene that had occurred when they had boarded the plane thirty minutes ago, and wondered if Leo even realized how protective he had sounded when he practically ordered Margaret to go to sleep. Of course, Margaret had not taken that kindly, and if Jed had not boarded at that exact moment, who knows who would have won? Oh, it had been a low, whispered conversation to be sure, but she heard enough to get the gist of it.  
Not that she had slept much last night either, she reminded herself. She had a feeling, call it a hunch, that she and Margaret had spent similar nights, sitting vigil at the bedsides of the men that they loved. What did the Irish call it? Stillwatch?   
She felt like her entire life had been turned upside down, because what was supposed to have ended at the Convention didn’t, and what was supposed to have been a short time for her husband to say what he thought was now looking like at least four years. Yesterday had been the turning point, though, in her mind. Her fears had all come to pass as she worked feverishly to get him well enough to speak articulately, and she didn’t even want to think about how much medication she had given him. And the lies they had told; just another in the set. But, she told herself, it had scared him too; enough so that he had agreed to her demand that, if elected, he only serve four years. Telling herself she couldn’t let him risk the stress, she knew it was more for herself. She couldn’t risk losing him.  
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice at first when the chair next to her moved slightly. Feeling a touch on her arm, she looked up, seeing the question in his eyes.  
“Abbey?”  
She shifted, stretching her arms a bit. “How ya doing, Leo?”  
“I’m fine.” He watched as she arched one perfect eyebrow, skepticism in her eyes.   
“Did either one of you get any sleep at all last night?”   
Taking a good look at the fatigue in her face, he mumbled, “I could ask the same of you.” Leaning back into his chair, he sighed. “Really, I’m fine, Abbey.”  
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Were you and my husband separated at birth and forgot to tell me?”   
“Speaking of your husband, I left him in the front cabin getting his intelligence briefing. His eyes were glazing over, and I think he was close to asking the Secret Service to shoot the phone. I may have to run interference in a few minutes.” He turned his gaze toward the couch, making sure Margaret was still asleep as he watched her even breathing.   
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Watching him go perfectly still, she knew she had her answer. As he slowly turned back toward her, she kept her voice low. “It’s okay, Leo, you don’t have to pretend with me.”  
“Abbey, I don’t know what you’re thinking..”   
“Leo, surely you realize that we’ve started this conversation twice before.” Laying her fingers against his suit covered arm, she squeezed slightly. “And before you say anything else, let me tell you that she’s in love with you, too.”  
He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest. His words were tight. “Did she tell you that?”  
“No, hon, I’m just an incredibly observant woman.” She chuckled lightly as she continued. “You want to ask any other questions?”  
Eyes still closed, he asked, his voice neutral. “Yeah. How is it possible to be in love with two women at the same time?”  
“Jenny?”  
“Yeah.” He sighed, turning to look at her, his voice low and controlled. “I still love Jenny, Abbey. Oh, not the same as I did when I married her, but still…I’d give anything if my marriage was solid, but it’s not, and we can‘t talk about it enough to fix it. I don’t want to hurt her, no matter what’s happened or what either one of us has done.” Tilting his head, he nodded across the cabin. “And then there’s Margaret. A woman who is the exact opposite of my wife, a woman that I don’t think I can live without, a woman who would sacrifice herself in order to make sure I survived.” His voice cracked as it dropped to a whisper. “A woman that, last night, I begged not to leave me again. A woman that I’m in love with.”  
Abbey stared at him, stunned at the depth of his response. Gathering her thoughts, she asked the first question that came into her mind. “What are you going to do in 8 days, Leo?”  
“I have absolutely no idea, Abbey.“ He pushed out of the chair, took three steps across the cabin to reach the couch, and pulled the blanket off the back to cover the stirring redhead. Reaching up to tuck a wayward strand behind her ear, he let his hand stroke gently down her cheek, watching as she settled back into a semi-sleep. Looking back at his best friend’s wife, he said, “Make sure she stays asleep, okay?” Jerking his thumb toward the front of the plane, he added, a faint smirk on his lips. “I’m going to go save Jed. At least I know the answers to his questions today.”


	5. History II

Day 6 before Election 1998  
Atlanta, Georgia

She waited until she heard the click of the conference room door before she turned to the man sitting beside her. Knowing she only had a few minutes before Leo and Jed would return from the meeting with the DNC Chairman, she leaned closer to him, wondering if he was even awake.

“Josh." No response. "Josh." 

Still no response. "Josh, I need to borrow Donna for a day.”

Blinking, he lifted his head slightly off his propped hands. “Huh?”

Rolling her eyes, she shook his shoulder gently. “Pay attention, Josh.” Hoping that he was at least hearing her, she continued, speaking in simple sentences. “Mrs. Bartlet has a speech at the GW Medical College tomorrow. It’s been planned for months. Originally, I was going with her as part of the advance team for our stops in Virginia and New York tomorrow. I need Donna to go in my place.”

“Why can’t you go?” Rubbing his fingers over his eyes, he tried to open them enough to at least see who was keeping him from a few minutes of well-deserved sleep.

Cocking her head, she sighed inwardly. “Josh, I need you to pay attention, okay? Look at my face.” She waited for him to lift his head. “Good. Now listen to my words, and don’t ask me to give you any explanations.” Slowly, she enunciated each word. “I … can’t ….leave …right…now.”

He stared at her lips, wondering if she was speaking in a foreign language that he hadn’t mastered yet. When her words finally sunk into his sleep-deprived brain, she could see the dawn of comprehension in his eyes and sighed, again, wondering if this was the state of future politics in America. 

“Oh.”

“Oh. That’s all I get. Oh?”

“Margaret, you said not to ask for any explanations. I guess I thought “Oh” said it all.” Running his hand through his hair, making it wilder than it already was, he looked at her, concern clouding his eyes. “Is he okay?”

She smiled, much like a mother would for her favorite, yet sometimes dense, son. “He’s good, Josh.”

His mind finally settling into gear, he watched as she moved around the table, separating papers and sorting files as she packed two briefcases. The afternoon sun filtering through the windows illuminated her face, and even he could see the strain beginning to show around her eyes. “Are *you* okay?” 

She waved her hand, not meeting his eyes, the softness in his question catching her a bit off-guard. “I’m fine.”

“Look, Margaret, I know it’s none of my business, but are either of you sleeping at all?” He watched her hands continue to sift through the files, slowing slightly at his question. Reaching across the table, he touched her arm, stopping her movements. “Come on, Margaret. I mean, the rest of us are at least sleeping three hours a night, but I don’t think that’s the same for you two, is it?

She lifted her head slightly, meeting his gaze, her eyes hooded. “Josh, please don’t ask.” Keeping her voice low, she measured each word. “He’s doing good, and I’m fine. Okay?”

His hand dropped from her arm as he dropped back into the wooden chair. “Just let me know if I can help.”  
She smiled slightly, nodding. “You’ve helped more than you will ever know.”

********************************

Night 6 before Election, Atlanta

Standing on the edge of the room, she scanned the crowd, wondering how many Atlantans could fit into a ballroom. The crowd had thinned considerably as the hour grew later, but if her estimate was right, there must be at least two hundred people left, all dressed in their finest. She smiled at that thought, remembering what Leo had told her earlier in the afternoon: he didn’t care what they wore, as long as they brought their wallets. Seeing that he was deep in conversation with a group that appeared to be hanging on his every word, she glanced covertly at her watch, letting out a small sigh when she realized it was already pushing midnight. 

“Those are some serious rocks on your wrist, sister.” 

She looked up, smiling warily as the purple-clad brunette moved closer.. “Thank you, Mrs. Bartlet. How are you doing this evening?”

“He has a way with the Harry Winston line, doesn’t he?”

Truly shocked, she dropped her left hand into the folds of her navy gown as she met the other woman‘s eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. What did you say?”

“Margaret, I wasn’t born yesterday. Well, maybe day before yesterday.” She smiled, self deprecatingly, waving her hand to the side, her own collection of diamonds sparkling in the overlit ballroom. “When did he give that to you?”

She let out a small breath, her voice low. “Ma’am…”

“Drop the ma’am, Margaret. This is me and you again. Abigail and Mary Margaret.“ Reaching out, she pulled the taller woman’s hand back out into the open, rubbing a finger over the jewelry in question, smiling as she felt the cool stones. “I want details.”

Pulling her hand back, she asked, eyes wide. “Isn’t this weird for you?”

“In what way?”

Waving her right hand, Margaret explained. “I mean, you’re friends with Jenny, and you’re asking if her husband gave me, his assistant, a piece of jewelry.”  
“Sister, let me reiterate my original statement.” 

Abbey emphasized each word, her voice low and warm. “That’s not just some piece of jewelry. That’s serious glitter.”

Margaret glanced around the room, avoiding the other woman’s eyes. A mixture of sounds wrapped around them, laughter, serious words, and drumbeats from the swing band still on stage. “It’s just a watch, Abbey. I lost mine, and he bought me a new one.”

“Margaret, saying that’s just a watch is like saying the Mona Lisa is a stick figure. Surely you know that, don't you?” Not waiting for an answer, she continued, eyes crinkling as she watched the younger woman‘s face. “And by the way, using the word “friend“ to describe my relationship with Jennifer McGarry is being very generous.”

Keeping a smile pasted on as she continued to check out the crowd, she murmured, “Abbey, can we find something else to discuss? Maybe the lack of women in this Fortune 500 crowd?”

Steering her toward a side table, Abbey laughed softly. “Oh, we can do that later. Right now, I want to discuss your jewelry.” Dropping her evening bag on the silver lame tablecloth, she sneakily pointed her finger, wondering if she could get the younger woman to admit her true feelings. “Margaret, that thing’s at least 30 carats, and I’m betting he’s got it insured for six figures.”

Feeling her cheeks begin to warm, she closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if it would be impolite to walk out on the possible future next First Lady of the United States. Quickly deciding that she would just follow, she sighed inwardly, opening her eyes to see Abbey now comfortably seated but still looking at her, an inquisitive smile on her face. Deciding it was time to change the subject, she perched on the side chair, actually glad for the opportunity to rest for a moment. Lowering her voice, she leaned forward. “Abbey, I need a favor.”

Recognizing the change in her voice, Abbey felt her stomach drop, knowing the time for teasing was over. Leaning her head toward the other woman, she asked, her voice full of worry. “Is he okay?“

Shaking her head, she let a small smile cross her lips. “Nothing’s wrong. He’s good.” Seeing the look of concern still in Abbey’s eyes, she added, “Really. He’s good.”

Laying her hand on the Margaret‘s, she asked, “You sure?”

Bobbing her head, she answered, “Yeah. The nights are the hardest, but…”

Abbey interrupted, understanding coloring her voice and her eyes. “But you’re holding him together, literally and figuratively, even if you don‘t sleep yourself.”

Not even bothering to deny the assumption, she just nodded, biting her lip as Abbey quickly squeezed her hand. Shaking herself, she brought her thoughts back to the original conversation. “That’s part of the favor I need. I was scheduled to be on the advance team with you tomorrow. If it’s okay with you, Donna’s going in my place.”

Her hand waved as she leaned back into the linen covered chair, her ankles crossing automatically. “That’s fine. Josh needs to try to live without her for a day or two anyway.” 

She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding, her fingers tapping against the silver lame. “Thanks, ma’am. I know she’ll do a good job.”

“And Mrs. Landingham’s meeting us in New York, so we’ll have extra help anyway.” She smiled quickly, seeing her husband moving toward them. “So do me a favor okay? Use that ‘just a watch’ on your wrist and encourage Leo to call it a night soon. It’s after midnight, for goodness sake. Jed and I are out of here.”

She laughed softly, standing along with Abbey as the Governor approached the table, still talking to three well-dressed men. “I may just do that, ma’am.”

************************************

Her errands done, she re-entered the ballroom, immediately seeking him out. Even from across the room, she could see his fist held tightly by his side. To the normal bystander, he was carrying on a perfectly casual conversation, even laughing at appropriate moments. But she had learned some very important things over the past few days. Without a glass to hold, the clenched hand was his tell, his sign, his lapse in the façade. 

Stepping into the throng of Democratic faithful, she made polite conversation as she moved across the room, her path straight toward her target.  
Feeling a hand against his arm, he turned quickly, seeing her red hair before anything else. He smiled tightly, his voice measured. “Margaret, I’d like you to meet the Governor of Georgia, Zell Miller, and the State Chairman of the DNC, Harry Gorman. Gentlemen, this is my assistant, Margaret Hooper.”

She kept her voice polite but neutral, taking note of the champagne flutes in the other men’s hands.. “It’s a pleasure, gentlemen. I do so hate to interrupt, but Mr. McGarry has an urgent phone call.”

He turned slightly, meeting her eyes, knowing without asking that she knew. Making their apologies, he followed her across the room out into the foyer to the hotel and into the empty elevator.

He waited until the elevator doors closed before dropping softly against the walnut paneled wall. “Was I that obvious?” 

“Not to anyone else.” She smiled slightly, taking a good look at the droop in his eyes. “Anything special set it off?”

“Margaret, it doesn’t take anything special. I can see or hear almost anything, and want a drink so badly that I can’t see straight.” He watched as she pressed a button on the elevator pad. “Where are we going? I need to get back to the fundraiser.”

She groaned to herself. “Leo, it’s one AM. The Governor and Abbey left an hour ago. The cars leave at 5:30 in the morning, and wheels up are at 6. You‘re propping yourself up against that wall as it is. We’re going to the room.”

Waving his hand in the air, he grumbled, “Margaret, I’ve still got to check on the late wires.”

She glanced his way, still facing the closed elevator doors as she smiled slightly. “Got them, already put them in the room.”

Dropping his hand, he stuffed his fist in his pocket. “I need to review the early polling data from Tennessee, Missouri, Ohio, and Michigan with CJ, you know.”

Shaking her head slightly, she had her counter argument ready. “Josh and Toby beat you to that. I believe that we’re ahead by 8 percentage points. I have copies of that for you, too.”

She felt him move closer, and wasn’t surprised when his voice was low in her ear. “I don’t want to go to sleep, Margaret.” 

She scrunched her eyes, hearing the shakiness in his voice, knowing that he wouldn’t want her to acknowledge it here. Soothing, she answered, “It’ll be better tonight, Leo.”

“No, it won’t.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” 

He smiled, almost sadly, at the adamant statement. “What are you gonna do, fight my demons for me?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past three days? Catching up on my beauty sleep?” 

He watched as she dropped her fingers to his hand, and, instinctively capturing them, he let her pull him out of the open doors and into the hallway.

************************************

She stood in the doorway, watching as he continued to pace in front of the windows, wondering if the Oriental rug would stand up to all of this abuse, considering he had been doing this for the prior hour while he reviewed the polls and dictated notes.   
Moving out of the bath, she placed her bag back in the closet, making sure she didn’t wrinkle their suits. Her bare feet silent as she crossed the room, she turned off the light on the side table, casting the room into shadows, moonlight and city lights streaming through the windows.

“Will you at least try to sit down on the couch for a while?” She struggled to keep her voice even, but even she could hear the catch. He glanced sharply at her, seeing the drained look in her eyes before she turned from him. Reaching out, he softly cupped her cheek, turning her face back.

Feeling his hand against her skin, she let her eyes stay closed for just a second, relaxing against his touch. His thumb slid over her lips, and she felt herself sighing. She let her eyes drift open, and found herself staring straight into his.

“When was the last time you slept more than an hour at a time?”

She heard the accusation in his voice, but was suddenly struck by the irony of the situation. “Well, that’s definitely the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Margaret…”

She shifted, meaning to turn away, but felt his hand slide to her arm, pulling her with him as he moved toward the couch. 

Pushing himself into the corner of the worn leather, he stretched one leg out along the sofa, watching as she stood in front on him, head cocked to the side, a familiar bemused expression on her face. “Leo..”

“Just lay with me, Margaret, okay?”

"Do you promise to at least try to sleep?"

"I'll try." Softly tugging on her hand, he watched her eyes close again, then felt the slack in her hand as she slowly sank on the sofa, still facing him. Gently turning her shoulders, he pulled her until she was laying against his chest, her head settling on his shoulder. 

His arms wrapped around her as she let herself completely sink into him as he finally settled his head against the leather. She could hear his heart beating against her ear, and her hand crept up to lay on his starched white shirt, the faint hint of his cologne wrapping around her.

Telling himself that this was more for her benefit than his, he knew he was lying. He needed her touch, her presence, more than he would ever be able to tell her. Feeling her pressed against him, her breaths uneven as she continued to settle, he stroked her pajama covered back, the satin smooth against his fingertips. Whispering, his voice rumbled in and against her ear, his words as much for him as for her. “Margaret, don’t think. Just don’t think.”

Feeling his fingers moving against her back, she reached out, pulling his other hand into hers, his fingers clutching hers as she settled them on his chest. She let her mind shut down, knowing that she didn’t have to worry about him, because they were holding each other. And that would get them through this night.


End file.
